


How to Fall in Love with a Movie Star

by LadyGoodwin, teakturn



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Accidental Sex, Celebrities, Drunk Sex, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Innuendo, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoodwin/pseuds/LadyGoodwin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakturn/pseuds/teakturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"... the pain broke her from his blue eyed spell, and reminded her that she should check to see if she had broken her ankle, or worse, her Louboutin's."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Cute

Melody ran across the street as soon as the light changed. She didn’t have time to be scared as a taxi stopped mere centimeters in front of her leg, as she raced past. She didn’t have time to apologize when she knocked a skinny dark haired man out of her way. It was her first day at work and she was late. “Great first impression, Mels,” she grumbled to herself. 

Her new boss was in Los Angeles for a photoshoot, and a few appearances on different shows. He and his former assistant were going to meet her in the lounge in the hotel where they were staying to go over an NDA and her contract. The agency had been very hush hush about who her new employer would be, but impressed upon her how important it is for her to make a good impression.

At the time she’d laughed and said, “Who doesn’t love me when they meet me?” Yet now she’s running for her life through L.A. If she believed in karma she’d be wondering what she’d done to deserve this.

She ran across the final street separating her from her destination tasting victory and relief, when she bumped into a well defined chest and faltered backward. She’s never stumbled in heels in her entire life, yet here she was, falling into this man while her feet tripped over one another. 

She felt a sharp pain in her right ankle around the same time she heard the man she bumped into grunt in pain. When she regained enough of her composure to actually look up at him, she found herself looking into the prettiest blue eyes she’d ever seen and cheekbones sharper than her own. 

Before she had a chance to engage her mental filter, she blurted out, “I don’t usually fall for someone this quickly. He has to buy me a drink first.” 

Her mother would laugh at her if she saw her now, ankle probably sprained, late to her new job, and flirting like she had all the time in the world. Multitasking at its finest. 

The current object of her flirtation just smiled in answer. He’d placed his hand on her elbow to keep her from falling and hadn’t relinquished his hold. The feel of his warm hand through her blouse was tantalizing, raising goosebumps along her skin despite the warm day. The size of his hands didn’t escape her notice, even as she found herself entranced by the color of his eyes.

He leaned in, close enough, she caught the scent of his cologne, and smirked mischievously, “Were I not exceptionally late for a luncheon, I’d be delighted to buy you that drink.”

His accent surprised her, but not by a lot. The handsome ones usually are British. She waved away his apology and offered him a dazzling smile.

“No problem, honestly. If I’m to bump into anyone I’m happy it’s someone who’s enough of a gentleman to actually make sure I don’t fall.”

He laughed a soft, breathy chuckle at that. It delighted her to no end and she widened her smile. Bumping into him is surely worth losing her job, and possibly spraining her ankle.

Speaking of which, the pain broke her from his blue eyed spell, and reminded her that she should check to see if she had broken her ankle, or worse, her Louboutin's.

“Okay there, love?” He followed her gaze down and waited for her answer. He’d bent down before she could say anything and laid long, elegant fingers against the bone of her ankle. He gently pressed and squeezed the area, only stopping when she offered a slight hiss.

“Well that’s brilliant. Not only am I getting fired, I now have to go to the doctor and figure out what’s wrong with my ankle.” Melody wasn’t really angry, she’s more annoyed. She’d been working hard all year at the agency to get high profile clients, and the first big assignment she get’s she’s late. 

When he finally glanced up from examining her ankle, he looked troubled. He stood back to his full height. She noticed he’d be a lot taller than her if she wasn’t in her heels. She’d probably be right under his chin, tall enough to press red stained kisses along his collar. Melody finds she quite likes that image and decides to make something happen out of this unfortunate situation.

“I’m late enough to have definitely lost this job. Walk me to a place I can get off this ankle?” The offer is innocent enough, but the way Melody is looking at him is anything but. She coyly nibbles on her bottom lip and can’t help the jolt of delight at the blush that pinks his cheeks and ears. 

Aww, she thinks to herself, poor boy’s bashful. Could he be more adorable? This is going to be fun!

His eyes tracked the movement of her teeth on her lips and he looked hypnotized. Despite how much fun she’s having just teasing him, she is in a lot of pain.

“Hey, Double Oh Seven,” she called softly, breaking him out of his reverie.

His eyes snapped up to hers, ”Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course,” he stammered. He carefully leaned into her, “Here, take my arm. There’s a place just up here where we can get you some ice for that. I was supposed to go there for my lunch, but by helping you I have an excuse for my tardiness.”

Melody smiled and let him take on her weight, “I’m happy to play the damsel in distress to your Dudley Do Right.”

Together, they slowly hobbled up the block to the hotel. Occasionally someone would stop and stare, more than one person tried to take a photo of them, but he was careful to keep her at least partially concealed from the camera’s view. 

Although she didn’t show it outwardly, her ankle seriously hurt. She’s broken it enough to know this wasn’t that bad, but she was still wearing her heels. She hoped wherever he’d decided to take her had comfortable chairs. Or maybe just one so she could maneuver herself onto his lap, she mused. Wouldn’t that be a laugh?

Coincidentally, he brought them to the entrance of the same hotel she was supposed to be meeting her new boss. She wondered if she could still make that meeting. They couldn’t very well refuse her the job if she showed up here instead of getting medical attention. That showed dedication, or maybe perseverance or something like it. Something valiant enough to get her the job despite her delinquency. Maybe.

Upon seeing her hobbling into the lobby, several of the hotel staff jumped into action to help her find the nearest seat. Unfortunately, there were many, so she didn’t have the opportunity to offer to thank her rescuer properly. 

She settled for throwing a dazzling smile at the man closest to her and saying, “May I have a glass of water and could you call Luke Windsor here? I was supposed to meet him in the lounge, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.” Sure, she could have done it herself, but one, it was more fun to have the staff scrambling to do her bidding, and two, maybe it would help her case that she was physically unable to do it herself.

Dudley Do Right frowned down at her in confusion. He’d been busy helping her into the seat and asking for some ice, but upon hearing her asking for his publicist he paused. Melody looked up at him bemused, his sudden stillness too obvious with the hustle and bustle of the rest of the lobby.

“Problem, sweetie?”

“You know Luke?” He asked, just as he heard Luke call his name, as he strode into the lobby with the old assistant. 

“Tom! Melody! I’m so happy to see you’ve both found your way here. I was worried I’d have to send a search party after the two of you. But I’m glad to see you’ve met your new assistant,” Luke smiled, brightly.


	2. The Contract

“Well, not officially,” Tom finally said.

Both Melody and Tom looked at Luke with the same confused puppy expression. Melody’s pain concealment was helping keep her head in the game and she recovered from the surprise more quickly. Tom, on the other hand, was now looking between her and Luke like a ping pong match.

Luke’s smile dimmed when he noticed the looks on their faces, and faded even more when he noticed her favoring her right ankle. “What the hell happened?”

She decided she would leave Tom to explain their tardiness and her injury, and instead focus on sliding off her shoe. Blessedly, it was unharmed in her literal run in with her new boss, and she found herself thankful for the little things. If you can call a $1,000 pair of shoes a little thing.

Luke frowned and pulled Tom in as he whispered, “Please tell me this isn't your fault. We can't afford to replace another assistant. She’s the best at the agency. Do you know what kind of strings I had to pull to get her on such short notice?” 

Windsor was not wrong about her being the best. Despite being the newest on their roster, she'd worked her way through the absolute worst celebrities with glowing reviews from all who employed her. Melody had a way with people that had proved vital in her career. She was simply the best at her job.

Tom ran a hand across the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Interesting, she thought. Melody tended to her ankle and pretended she wasn't listening to Tom and Luke whisper-hissing at one another. It wasn't technically her business what they discussed. Having a shot at knowing what had transpired between Tom and the old assistant, she knew, wasn't going to happen until she signed the NDA, if then. But then, Melody loved a challenge.

“Why don't I have a table brought over, along with the contracts.” Luke’s smile was uneasy, but professional. He was probably worried she'd sue them, or worse, go to the press.

When Luke finally came back, clutched in his hands, were two thick paper packets and at his side with a small table, an ice bucket and towel, was the bellhop Melody had made blush earlier. The poor sod could hardly bring himself to look up at her even as she smiled at him fondly.

Once the table was in place, Luke spread both contracts out and tapped the thicker of the two, “That’s the NDA, pretty standard affair. You can’t tell anyone anything you experience while working with Tom.”

Melody nodded at Luke, then turned to the still lingering bellhop and gave him a sparkling smile, “Do you think you could be a dear and ice my ankle while I go over these contracts?” 

You’d think she’d offered him a million dollars with how quickly he jumped to do her bidding. He was on his knees in front of her in seconds. He applied the ice gently, taking care to catch the droplets that threatened to soak her skin with the edge of his shirt.

Luke was right, the NDA was standard. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. She read through the pages pretty quickly and signed where instructed. Next was her contract.

Tom was clearly a big deal, although Melody knew nothing about him. This wasn’t unusual, her clients spanned the spectrum, and she often didn’t know much about them when she was assigned. Her modus operandi was to do her due diligence after she had a name, which usually, was after she signed the contracts and before her start date, giving her plenty of time to get up to speed. 

Luke handed Melody a blue fountain pen, and she signed her signature with a flourish on the appropriate dotted lines. “So boys, you wanna tell me about the last assistant?” She asked looking from one to the other.

Tom and Luke looked uncomfortably at each other. 

“Why don't we discuss that over lunch,” Luke started, then looked at Tom, who looked appropriately sheepish, “and a few drinks.”  
Melody sat back in her chair grinning, at the two men. Tom looking defeated and Luke looking, oh so annoyed. 

  


“There’s a reason companies frown on office romances,” she chided, still grinning.

“Yes, well, I know that now, don’t I?” Tom shifted uncomfortably.

The waitress came to the table then and refilled their water glasses. She took her sweet time with Tom’s, making sure to flaunt her ample assets in the low cut t-shirt. “Can I get you anything else while I'm here?” She purred at Tom, ignoring the other two occupants at the table.

Luke looked to Melody and said, “You get used to it.”

Melody nodded.

“Thank you love, we're fine,” Tom said flashing a bright smile.

“Well, if you need anything at all, my name’s Carla.”

“Thank you, Carla. We appreciate that.” 

Carla walked off throwing a little extra sway in her hips for Tom’s benefit, which he seemed to appreciate as he watched her walk away. 

Melody rolled her eyes at Tom.

“What?” He asked.

“You can't help yourself.”

“What?”

Melody turned to Luke, “Can he?”

“No,” Luke confirmed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I was just being nice to the girl,” Tom said, slumping into his chair like a petulant child.

“Of course you were,” Melody smiled. She believed him. Some people were natural flirts.

Tom looked at her, obviously trying to decide if she was mocking him or not. Her kind smile told him she wasn’t and he smiled back, with a nod.

“I trust your passport is up to date?” Luke asked her.

“And I have all my shots,” she winked.

“We leave for London in three days. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. I'll messenger over all your equipment, documents and information. 

“I look forward to it.”


	3. We’re Gonna Need More Drinks

Melody sat in the 11,000 square foot, First Class lounge, on one of the couches in front of the giant circular fire pit. It allowed her a view of the atrium through the wall of windows on the other side, and gave her ample light to go over her many documents.

Luke, true to his word, had messengered over all her equipment preloaded with Tom’s schedule, pertinent contacts, and even a list titled “Favourite Things”. The package included a bit of paperwork that wasn’t electronic and her airline tickets, which were first class. 

She appreciated that. 

Not all her clients were so generous. Sometimes on particularly long flights, when her employer wouldn’t spring for an upgraded ticket, she would upgrade it herself with points or miles. Sitting in a tin can for 13 hours, wedged in a cramped, uncomfortable seat, next to mouth breathers or shall we say persons with malodorous traits, was not happening. 

Her mother ingrained into Melody, from a young age, “To be on time, is to almost be late.” That had messed with her mind, big time, so Melody was at the airport far earlier than she needed to be. It provided her time to familiarize herself with the information Luke had sent over, while at the same time avoiding the arduous task of calling her mother. 

Her mother was not the most rational of creatures, bless her heart, and worried over Melody to an occasionally, annoying degree. If she had called her mother to inform her she’d be leaving the country for an indefinite amount of time, the poor woman would have blown a gasket. Then spent HOURS trying to persuade her to stay. 

Melody was no stranger to the saying, “Better to ask forgiveness, than permission,” and made a note to call her mother from across the pond. Promising herself an earful, yet also ensuring less conflict and the avoidance of a smack to the back of the head she was sure to receive. No one questioned where Melody got her strength of will, so her relationship with her mother was often strained, but only out of love.

Having managed to snag one of the small round tables, she had her things laid out so she could work more efficiently. This is where Tom found her, typing away, pencil between her teeth and two pens stuck into her ponytail. If he greeted her, she wasn’t sure, so engrossed was she with Tom’s suit receipts for last month's award shows. She hummed in acknowledgment of his presence before returning her focus on the table before her.

“You’re here early,” Tom smiled, sitting next to her.

“Mmmm. Being late is a phobia of mine,” she mumbled around the pencil.

“Then I suppose I should apologize in advance, and offer to pay your therapy bills, because I am, quite often, late.”

“Not as my client, you’re not.” Removing the pencil, she finally looked up and flashed him a smile as his eyebrows shot up.

“Challenge accepted,” he grinned.

“Easy money,” she purred.

Tom’s smile got even bigger, if that were possible. “How about I go get us some drinks?”

“Sure. San Pellegrino with lime, please.”

“Nothing stronger?"

“I’m working.”

“Well, sure. But I won’t tell, if you won’t,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Unfortunately, you do not look like a man who can be trusted with state’s secrets.”

“Are you saying, I don’t look like I could endure interrogation?”

“You don’t look like you could endure an aggressive tickle.”

Tom fell against the back of the couch laughing. “Well you have me there, madam. I am ridiculously ticklish. I’ll be back with your water.”

He returned carrying the two glasses with ice and lime, while behind him, a waitress carried a tray with the bottles of sparkling water and two champagne flutes filled with golden, fizzy liquid. Melody waited for them to set the drinks down, and the waitress to move out of earshot before she spoke.

“I thought I was clear.”

“Crystal. I thought we should toast our new partnership, and you can’t have a proper toast without a bit of bubbly.”

Melody sighed in resignation. “Fine. Just the one.”

They each picked up a flute and held it up.

“To us,” Tom said, “and a productive working relationship.”

They clinked glasses, and each took a sip of the crisp, dry wine. As Melody set her glass down, a text alert flashed on her new work phone. “Shit.”

“What?” Tom asked, leaning over, to look at her screen.

“The flight’s been delayed. Our plane coming in was delayed by weather.”

“For how long?”

“Looks like three hours. I’m on it.” She said, dialing her phone before jamming it between her shoulder and ear. While she waited for the other line to answer, she pulled out her laptop and began pulling up travel websites, including NOAA.

After a half hour, Melody put down her phone, closed her computer, and turned to Tom.

“Well, what’s the verdict? Are there any options?”

“Plenty. None reasonable.”

He frowned. “How unreasonable?”

“Multiple lengthy layovers, middle seats in coach, flying out tomorrow.”

“Right. Well, you tried. Thank you. We should probably let the hote-”

“I contacted the hotel and advised them of the late arrival,” she said, cutting him off, “They said if we needed extra nights, it wouldn’t be an issue. I also let Mikey, Christian, Jon and Luke know about the delay. I moved your appointment tomorrow, to the afternoon the day after, just in case the delay is longer than predicted.”

Tom looked at her in wide-eyed surprise. “Wow. Great. Thanks. I don’t suppose you know the status of the renovations on my house,” he joked.

“I do actually,” she said, picking up her iPad and opening an email. “The kitchen is about a week behind, because the supplier sent the wrong tile. The guest room is done, your room is done, except for, they found the seal around your skylight looks cracked and they’d like to replace it. It will set you back about a day, but at least you won’t wake up in a pool instead of a bed.”

“Uh, OK. Sure. Are the other skylights OK?”

“He says they are. This one is dry because it gets the most sun.”

“Alright. Sure. Have them fix it.”

“Also, the white Jag is due for an oil change and is ready for the next milage tune up. I called your mechanic, he’s picked it up already and should be good to go by the time you get back, unless they find a problem. It’s a Jag so…” she shrugged her shoulders.

Tom stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

“When’d you last spend time with your mother?”

“Uh,” he blinked dumbly, “I-I don’t know a few months?”

“You have time in a few weeks, you could go spend a couple of days with her. Should I contact her, and let her to check her schedule?”

He nodded.

Melody went to tapping fast and furiously on her tablet, sending out requests and answers. “OK. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You are frighteningly efficient.”

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s incredibly sexy.”

“Yes, it is.”

She watched him look her over in her comfortable travel clothes. Sure British Airways gave you pajamas to sleep in, but Melody didn’t particularly like the idea. So she chose to wear leggings, a long sweater, and boots that she knew looked great on her curvaceous figure. 

“Would you like another drink?” He asked.

“You don’t listen very well.”

“I listen just fine. I’m just optimistic…and persistent.”

“Truer words,” she smiled. “How about I go get us some food.”

Tom grinned, and she saw all manner of dirty jokes flit across his face.

“Don’t,” she smiled, pointing a finger at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he chuckled.

 

Three hours and an uneventful boarding later, they were escorted to their spacious first class seats on their British Airways flight from Los Angeles to London. 

There are three columns, four rows of nooks on the far right and left of the cabin. The middle row is home to three rows of two single nooks placed side by side. When Melody found her seat next to Tom, she hung her coat in the little coat closet on the outside of her nook.

Each nook has a blanket with a pair of headphones, a flat screen, and a fold down table near your armrest for your laptop or dinner. The seat was cushioned and comfortable and greeted you with a small white pillow. Above the seat was a set of intuitive buttons that always had Melody fighting the childish urge to press all of them.

She sighed happily as she settled in her seat. She’d planned on sleeping through this flight to fight jet lag, but found she was unable to relax. Just as she’d decided to work on Tom’s schedule for the next three days, he turned towards her from his nook and flashed her a smile.

“This is certainly different for me.”

Melody raises an eyebrow, “Really? As much as you travel?”

Tom shrugs and casts a cursory glance around the cabin, “I usually don’t have a neighbor. I like it.”

Melody found herself smiling at that. She’s no stranger to divas and men with ego’s so large they couldn’t see their own feet. She tried not to make judgments on her clients, it’s not her place to voice her opinion on their life choices, but after doing her research on Tom she expected someone a lot different.

“So, Miss Melody-”

Melody winced and interrupted him softly, “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming months, so I’d prefer it if you called me Mels. The only person who calls me Melody is my mother.”

Tom laughed, “I can sympathise with that, whenever my mother calls she refuses to call me Tom. It’s Thomas every time I call or visit and no amount of pleading will change her mind on that.”

Melody watched the way his face lit up when he laughed. His skin was sun-kissed and gorgeous. His smile was contagious and she fought the urge to grin at him like an idiot. She watched the slight pink of his tongue show between his teeth, how the very apples of his cheekbones turned a sweet ruddy red as he struggled to control himself. 

She could see how that assistant lost her professionalism while working with him. His face was a work of art that drew you in and screamed aristocracy. From his high forehead to the noble slope of his nose. Melody’s eyes followed the path of his light freckles sprawl across the bridge of his nose and fan out onto his impossibly high cheekbones. Said cheekbones created deep valleys in his cheeks that shadowed beautifully in the not so forgiving light of the first class cabin.

He was dressed down and comfortable for the long flight, just like Melody. But even under all the loose, comfortable clothing, she could see the lean taut muscles of his body. He was an all around gorgeous sight to behold, and Melody was impressed.

“So, Mels, ever been to the UK before?”

Melody nodded, “My mother and father grew up there. It’s where they first met. We visit my grandparents every Christmas.”

Tom looked surprised and turned to fully face her, “Your parent’s are… how did I not know this? I read your file and there was no mention of this.”

Melody shrugged, it didn’t surprise her he didn’t get much about her from her file. She took care to shield her personal life from every aspect of her professional one. Every employer is always surprised to hear anything about her personal life, celebrities forget so easily that the people who work for them have lives outside of theirs.

Of course she doesn’t explain all that to Tom, instead she pretends to fan herself and peer up at him through her eyelashes.

“Why, Mr. Hiddleston, have you been checking up on me?” She drawled in her best southern accent.

“Why yes ma’am, I was,” he answered, in his best Hank impression. His eyes were sparkling and full of mischief. “And I liked what I saw.”

“Well none of that now. Luke made it very clear what would happen if either one of us were to misbehave.” Melody sweetened her smile before turning to the passing flight attendant and asking for a water. She could feel Tom’s eyes on her, but she pretended to be engrossed in her manicure.

“Isn’t the fun in the misbehaving?” He grinned.

“And look where that got you.” Melody’s face never lost its smile, even though she caught the way he reacted to her words. She’d struck a nerve. She felt the mood change. At once everything went from fun and flirty to tense.

The opportunity to work for him would be a career boon. Should she pull off this job successfully, she could have her pick of the celebrity roster from here on out. That means no more divas, no more misogynistic men who insisted on calling her sweetheart, even after she’s worked for him for two years. Tom would be the stepping stone she needed to eventually start her own PA business.

That is, if she manages to keep them both on their best behavior for as long as this searing mutual attraction lasts.

“Why would where my parents grew up be in my professional file?”

“I was hoping to learn more about you.” Tom said softly. His eyes lowered as he awkwardly fiddled with something on his side of the cube. Melody admired the way the overhead light made his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. Even without trying, he was a work of art.

“Why don’t we let that happen organically?” Melody suggested just as softly, the mood shifting again. She swam in the deep blue oceans of his eyes, and she saw an emotion too sincere to still be flirtatious.

Then just as suddenly as the look was there, it was gone. Pressing the attendant call button, he said, “We’re gonna need more drinks then,” he smiled, his mood bolstered by her acquiescence to his request.


	4. Rough Landings

Melody woke up groggy and disoriented, and realized she’d slept for far longer than she intended. When she peeked at her phone, she saw they only had another two hours before they landed.

 

Perfect. That’s two hours to get her somewhere reasonably human before she has to face other people. Right now she’s nowhere near that.

 

Glancing over at Tom, she saw that he’s still asleep, hugging one of the scripts she’d handed to him before boarding, and softly snoring. He looked just as regal and handsome as he did awake, only softer. The tense line between his eyebrows he got when he was focused were gone. The tense clench of his jaw was gone as well, leaving his face delicate and angelic.

 

They hadn’t drunk enough to get farther than buzzed, but it was enough to knock them both out of commission for the majority of the flight. Melody made a note to wake him up in an hour. When they finally landed, it’d be about midday and she doesn’t want him groggy in case they come across fans or paparazzi.

 

She felt stuffy and confined underneath the blanket she didn’t remember putting over herself, so she took it off and stretched her legs. Her body was sluggish and slow to wake, a direct effect of sitting in one place for so long, and she curses the thought of actually getting up to stretch properly. She’d always been the slow to wake type, preferring to lounging in bed hours after she’d fully reached consciousness.

 

Melody eventually got up anyway. Her urgent need for the loo and a mirror was enough motivation to get her out of her cozy cocoon.  She’d be damned if Tom woke to find her looking like a street urchin. She knew her hair was a mess and she felt nowhere near presentable.

 

Of course it really only mattered if her boss found her presentable on a professional level.  Personally, her looks shouldn’t matter to him either way. They’re both under strict orders to keep everything professional and at best, platonic. Melody can do professional. She was born professional.

 

What she can’t do is lie to herself, and say she hasn’t thought about him in a decidedly not professional manner the three days leading to this flight. Mel’s thought about it, a lot. She thought about it when she’d watched the barest peek of the taught skin of his abdomen be revealed, as he yawned and stretched. She saw it in the way the unflattering light cast shadows across his sharp cheekbones and high brow. He’s a work of art, unlike any man she’s ever seen before.

 

And also completely, tortuously, untouchable.

 

In the small, cramped space of the bathroom, she was pleasantly surprised when she saw she didn’t look half as bad as she’d thought. Her brown hair curled nicely once out of the ponytail she’d forced it into before boarding. The little bit of makeup she’d worn hadn’t smudged in the slightest either. In fact, she looked good for someone who’d just woken up. All she really had to do was massage her scalp in relief and run some Listerine through her mouth before she was set to go back out.

 

When she made it back to her seat, she found Tom looking at her blearily with confused blue eyes. He was adorably ruffled, and seemed unable to speak despite signaling with his hands he wanted her attention. Melody watched in amusement as he grabbed for a water and cleared his throat a few times. He’d made a show of it too, placing elegant fingers against his aristocratic throat.

 

Once he finally felt fit to speak, he turned the full power of his eyes on her and smiled sweetly, “And here I thought you were but a dream, for your beauty is unreal.”

 

Melody raised one eyebrow and settled back in her seat, wearily. Tom continued to watch her with those eyes of his, not looking the least ashamed or embarrassed by his statement. He didn’t look like he expected her to return with something, either. He’s content to just wake up and say something all poetic, then continue on like nothing happened.

 

After a long pause of Tom looking at her, and Melody gazing skeptically at him, she finally broke their silent standoff and said, “You do realize you just said that right? Like, out loud?”

 

Tom shrugged and finally took his heavy gaze off of her. Melody’s sigh of relief is covered by his hoarse reply, “It was worth a shot. You seem determined to forget the chemistry we experienced before we found out we were working together.”

 

Melody snorted, “As should you!  Need I remind you of-”

 

“Me and my assistant.” Tom monotones over her, he lolled his head around with each syllable. It’d be funny seeing someone as handsome as him doing something so childish if it didn’t grate on her resolve. It was hard enough having a constant playback of “Don’t touch the client. Don’t touch the client.” when said client was doing everything in his power to sway her to break the rules.

 

When she looked at him unamused he threw her another carelessly heartbreaking smile. She wondered, not for the first time, if he knew that he could break hearts with the curling of the corners of his thin lips, never mind the impact of his full smile.

 

Melody only brought up his former assistant anytime he tried to go down the path of flirting with her or challenged her resolve on keeping everything professional. Nothing mattered to her more than doing her job well. She’s worked since grad school to get in this position and she won’t let this gorgeous man or her weakness for his eyes and the freckles across his nose distract her.

 

“You know what I think? I think you’re jealous” Tom said, trying to bait her. It’s all she can do to keep herself from rolling her eyes to the back of her skull. If she had a penny for every time she was accused of being jealous she wouldn’t need this job. Mel sarcastically humed in acknowledgement of his “theory”, before resolutely digging in her carry-on and pulling out a brush.

 

If he was going to rehash the already established particulars surrounding why she won’t give into their established mutual attraction, then she was going to get some personal grooming done while he did it.

 

When she started to run the brush through her hair, Tom sighed dramatically and excused himself to the bathroom, she hoped. Once they landed, she’d planned to rush him into the hired car and to the hotel with no arguments. At the hotel, she’d hustle him into the shower, have him talk to his mother on the phone for no more than an hour, and then they’d go over future scripts.

 

It’s imperative they go through all of this before she sent him to sleep at nine so he’d be well-rested for the six a.m. call time the next day. The second they landed, they were going straight into professional mode. It made the knowledge that, for the two weeks until the renovations to his house were finished, and being just a literal door away from where he slept, bearable.

 

Tom returned looking much more awake and ready for the day. He folded the complementary blanket (despite being told he doesn’t have to by a red-faced, fellow passenger) and changed into a thicker shirt in preparation for the cooler UK weather. She followed his lead and quickly changed into a her favorite long sleeve shirt, topped off with her mother’s leather jacket.

 

“Ah, leather jacket. A woman after my own heart.” Tom commented absently. Mel supposed it was more to himself than to her since he was resolutely staring at the ceiling as if in pain. She ignored it and focused on making sure she had everything she boarded with. She felt him staring at her again, but decided to focus on her task.

 

When she glanced back at Tom, his gaze was focused squarely on the blank monitor in front of him. She could have sworn he was looking at her, but now she wasn’t so sure. She knew that she’d felt his eyes on her, but for some reason he didn’t want her to know. Mel tried not to let it bother her, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

 

Out of nowhere, Tom starts fidgeting. He placed his legs on the cushion in front of him, put on a cable knit sweater, took off the cable knit sweater seconds later, and drummed his fingers nervously against his thigh. His legs were too long for his little nook, so his knees were bent awkwardly and he looked uncomfortable.

 

Mel was about two seconds away from scolding him like an overwhelmed mother when he turned to her and said. “What’s the plan then? We land, security and bag check, and then off to the hotel?”

 

“Yeah. The car will be waiting for us.” He sighed anxiously as she spoke and she realized he’s suffering from cabin fever. He must have been trying to use her and flirting as a distraction, she decided, but she had quickly thwarted that plan.

 

The rest of the flight is spent with Tom fidgeting in his seat like a child for another thirty minutes before Mel hands over her tablet for him to play with. That settled him down long enough for the plane to land, and then he’s back to his energetic self.

 

Once the plane landed Tom was on his feet before the seatbelt light came on and began grabbing his things. Before she could make the move herself, Tom gathered her bags for her and stood slightly ahead of her as they walked through the plane.

 

“Anxious to depart?” She teased.

 

“Anxious to stretch my legs. As luxurious as that flight was they could have made the seats a bit larger,” he said this he bent in an awkward position to stretch his legs.

 

“They didn’t make the seats with someone who’s mostly leg in mind.”

 

Mel found her mood lifting as they made their way through the airport. She could finally get to work and stop thinking about her attraction to Tom; she’d finally be able to focus.

 

“What do you mean, mostly leg?” He asks, with a smirk. He’s still hyper and in an anxious mood, but her playful, disposition was starting to rub off on him.

 

She leaned into him conspiratorially, “This may come as a shock, but you sir, are all leg. I bet under your Purple Labels we’d find miles of leg, and maaaaaaaybe some neck and then your head.”

 

He openly snorted, and began laughing so loud and uncontrollably, he stopped walking. They’d made it past security at this point and were waiting for the rest of their luggage. Mel delighted in his laughter, joining him with a wild giggle of her own. She found herself wishing they could always be like this. They aren’t boss and employee, they aren’t flirting and fighting their attraction for one another.

 

It’s just Mel and Tom. Two people with a horrible sense of humor.

 

Despite it being mid-afternoon when they landed, there’s no gaggle of paparazzi waiting for them or excited fans to contend with. They’re able to gather all their things and make it to the hired car uneventfully. Mel would almost be disappointed about it, if it wasn’t for the look Tom sent her way once he’d realized they’d made it to the car without getting mobbed by fans.

 

“Not bad,” Tom says as the driver opens the door for them.

 

Mel accepts the gesture and steps into the dark town car gracefully. She waited until he’s settled into the car as well, before she turning to pierce him with her hazel eyes.  

  
  


“What did I do to deserve you?”  He grinned.

 

Mel smiled at him flirtatiously, “Oh, you don’t.”  When Tom raised one surprised eyebrow, she returned it with a dimpled smile of her own. “What?  I work damn hard to be the best at my job.”

 

Tom put his hands up in a defensive gesture, “That’s not why I’m looking at you that way. I’m looking at you that way because _you_  flirted with _me_  this time.”

 

He looked so smug and happy as Mel groaned and face-palmed her own actions. _She can’t turn it off, either!_  She never let her mouth write checks she couldn't cash, but this is something entirely different. Tom isn’t some guy she can just pick up at the bar, and drop in a heartbeat. He’s her _boss_ , and if that weren’t enough, the only reason she had this job was because he slept with the assistant before her.

 

She could lose her job over flirting with him like this. She’s lucky he enjoyed her as much as he did, because with anyone else she’d never get away with talking to him this way. Mel had to put a stop to all this flirting back and forth. Simply saying she’s trying to be serious and professional won’t cut it, she had to really put it into his skull.

 

“Mr. Hiddleston-” Mel began, with a tone of polite formality. Tom immediately began to groan and thumped his head against the back of his seat.

 

“Pardon?” Mel asked in bewilderment. Tom lazily rolled his head to the side so he could look her in the eye. The darker lighting made them seem more intense than she’s used to. Or maybe it’s how close he suddenly is, how sweetly overpowering his cologne is, how soft his long, delicate fingers feel as they caress her face.

 

She didn't know how it happened, but she did know that whatever she’d intended to say, seemed a lot less important with his pink, soft looking, lips just mere centimeters away from her own. Despite the abruptness with which he’d invaded her personal space, she found herself stuck in time and anticipating his next move.

 

Melody didn’t know whether she wanted him to kiss her or move away for the sake of both their jobs. But his eyelids were beginning to lower. He began to lean impossibly closer all the while subtly avoiding her lips.

 

“Tom clears the sluggish hoarseness his voice had taken on at some point. “You only call me Mr. Hiddleston, when you’re trying to push me away.”

 

“Yes,” _Is that my voice? Sounding all husky and low? I sound wrecked and he hasn’t even kissed me yet_. “You know what happened with your last assistant.”

 

Tom didn’t let the comment get to him this time, he must have been prepared. Instead, he closed his eyes, and placed his forehead against hers. His lips strayed towards the corner of her mouth, seeking permission. He wanted her to back away if she chose to. She knew he wouldn’t push the issue should she try to reject him.

 

Tom wasn’t like that.

 

But how she wanted him. She wanted to know what he’d taste like, what he’d sound like when she kissed him for the first time. At that moment, Tom was the only one initiating physical contact. With one hand on her cheek, his other hand played lightly with her curls, not running through them or pulling, just touching each curl as if it were its own, special mystery.

 

She didn’t need to check to see if his eyes were still closed, she knew they were. She felt him press his warm, soft lips to her skin again, and she nearly broke. She still hadn’t placed her hands on him, too scared that she’d never be able to stop once she did. But Tom didn’t seem to mind. He patiently waited for her to give him permission to kiss her, all the while accepting the fact that she hadn’t reciprocated his affectionate caresses.

 

“Tom,” She breathed.

 

Her voice was a warning and a plea. She knew what the warning was for, where he’d taken them was a slippery slope. It was all fine and good to try to initiate a kiss with her in the privacy of the car. Eventually though, the car would stop. She would have to usher them through the hotel, and check him in as his assistant. Mel couldn’t be the girl Tom had an immediate connection to in the eyes of others.

 

She was his assistant. She had to be that in private cars and in hotel lobbies.

 

“Remember what Luke said.” She gasped, as his hand traveled from cupping her jaw, to palming her neck. It’s not threatening, his finger certainly don’t tighten. But it’s possessive and provocative enough to have her rethinking her will to keep things professional.

 

“Just tell me one thing.” He pulled away and stared so far into her eyes, Mel worried he could see everything going on in her head. _Could he see my indecision? Could he see the battle I wage within my mind every time he so much as blinks?_  She wondered.

 

“If I tell you, will you drop all your baiting, and keep it professionals from here on out?”

 

He winced, “Is that what you want?”

 

It took her a moment to answer. _No_ , she thought, _it’s not at all what I want. I want you in my bed with nothing on, reciting Shakespeare to me so sensually you give the text a whole different meaning._

 

“It’s what’s best.” Mel said finally. She’s still in his grasp. His hand still has possession of her neck. She could feel his hand flex at her non-answer, but eventually he did lean out of her space. He pushed himself back to his own corner of the car, and slowly released every point of contact he’d initiated when he moved. His hand was the last thing to go, and Mel can’t help but feel guilty and a bit of shame for missing it’s warmth.

 

“Something happened between us, before Luke and the contracts. Correct?” Tom’s eyes demanded the truth from her, but Mel found she couldn’t say the words. So she nodded. Once, and quickly.

 

“Thank you, for your honesty. I’ll keep my part of the bargain since you kept yours. I promise to remain professional around you from here on out.” He looked like he expected more, or maybe he wanted to say more.  However, he doesn’t push the issue.

 

Melody didn’t reply and he didn't look for a response. They spent the rest of the drive in silence until they reach the hotel.  The driver came around letting Tom out of the car first.  When the driver helped Melody out, Tom was already making his way into the hotel entrance.  Not that she had expected to stick around, but his demeanor is a stark contrast to the beginning of the car ride.

 

Mel instructed the bellmen how to handle their bags, as she watched Tom making his way through the lobby.  He wasn’t not ignoring her, per se, but there is a definite chill between them that wasn’t there before.

 

_Nothing I can do about that really,_  Mel thinks morosely. _It’s probably for the best._  She tried to convince herself.  She cast a glance around the surrounding buildings of their hotel and felt a wave of nostalgia hit her right in the chest. No matter how much she or her life has changed, London has managed to look the same for as long as she can remember.

  
She took comfort in that.  It’s all she can do as she prepared herself for the most grueling PA job she’s ever had.


	5. Checking In

Shoulders pulled back and head held high, Mel walked into the hotel like she owned the place. She forced an air of arrogance and belonging to mask how utterly wrecked she felt by Tom’s rejection, and soon had the bellmen scrambling behind her like ducklings in her wake. It was comforting to know somethings never change.

Tom stood near reception desk, waiting and coolly watching her. He wasn’t looking at her like a friend, like the women he’d wanted to be with not twenty minutes ago. Now he was looking at her with all the haughty aloofness of an employer waiting for his employee. When she attempted a smile, something to work through the biting chill of his cold shoulder, he impatiently motioned for her to hurry up. The reservation was under her name and he couldn’t get his key card until she checked them in.

She fought her wince at the silent blow and instead brightened her smile, “Reservation under Mel B. please.” she spoke softly and batted her eyelashes innocently as she spoke. She loved making reservations under that name when she went anywhere. It was a stupid, childish joke, but it never failed to get a laugh out of her.

If the wobbly smirk she saw Tom fighting off in the corner of her eye was any indication, she knew that he thought so too.

After a mildly dubious look from the desk clerk, Mel had the keys to their respective rooms. Shuffling the extra key cards into their respective cardboard holders, she turned towards a waiting Tom and handed him the small, colorful, envelope.

“The white card is your room, the blue is mine. There are two copies in case of an emergency. I also have one to your room. The rooms are connected by a sitting room we’ll use for meetings. You have a river view, one bedroom suite, and it comes with 24 hour butler service should you need it.” 

Tom nodded seriously and Mel took a moment reorient herself. He looked so focused as she rattled off information to him, his brow furrowed in concentration and she noticed a bit of pink between his teeth just before he bit his lip.

It took her too long to draw her eyes away from his mouth, but once she did she looked down at her watch, “Would two hours give you enough time to settle, before going over your schedule for the next few days,” She began directing him towards the elevator bank and had to mentally kick herself before adding, “Mr. Hiddleston?”

His eyes twitched a bit at her formal address, and she noticed the bolt of his jaw became more prominent for a moment. Then, with steel eyes and a polite smile, Tom replied, “That should be fine Miss -“ Tom stopped pretending to realize he didn’t know her last name.

“Gillian.” She reminded him softly. It was low of him, to pretend not to know her last name after shamelessly confessing to having looked into her file. He was really playing up this professionalism and it was starting to get to her. 

Mel quickly recovered, and put her professional demeanor back in place. It wouldn’t do to look more affected by rules she’d put in place after her little speech in the car. She wanted a boss-employee relationship, and he was giving it to her.

“Thank you Miss Gillian. That should be fine.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Mel blinked when she suddenly realized they were now in front of an elevator. They had an audience, she was aware, bellboys weren’t as discreet as they tried to appear to be. But she wanted to push his buttons like he’d pushed her’s. When he took too long to reply, she turned and looked up into his eyes.

“Sir?” She spoke just as softly as she had on the drive over, when they were in their own little world and seconds away from making a sinfully tempting mistake.

Tom’s jaw clenched before he shook his head, “That’ll be all for now, thank you" he said, softly. He was the first in the elevator once the doors opened. Cornering himself in the very back of the car and letting Mel stand near the doors with the as the rest of the bellboys settled behind her with their luggage.

 

The ride up in the elevator was tense and quiet, and she couldn’t have been happier when the box dinged to announce she could flee to the safety of her room. But first, she had to handle Tom’s things. 

Mel smiled politely at Tom once they each arrived at their doors, and told the bellman to drop Tom’s luggage off first. Taupes and light greens greeted her as she stepped into her temporary home. With one manicured finger and a hand on her hip, she directed the bellboys around Tom’s room while he wandered into their shared living room with his phone. Her voice was sharper than she usually like to talk to people serving her, but she wanted this to be done quickly so she could be out of Tom’s room ASAP.

Tom left her to it. She supposed he was calling his mother. It was still early enough in the day that it wouldn’t be unseemly for a random call from him, and Mel had worked hard to ensure he would have time to.

When the bellboys lined up outside Tom’s room to gather her things and bring them into her suite, she wandered into the room to see their work. The curtains were pulled open to let in the weak English light, and the large floor to ceiling windows gave her a stunning view of the Thames. With a cursory glance around she could tell that they’d followed her word to the letter, and not a thing was out of place. When her eyes landed on the grand four poster bed against the very center wall, Mel felt herself freeze.

It was just so made up, so perfect, it looked like something out of a catalogue. She couldn’t imagine Tom actually sleeping in that bed. Which, unfortunately, made her think of the things Tom could be doing in that bed to pass the time. With her, hopefully. 

Shaking herself of these thoughts violently, Mel turned sharply and marched herself into her own suite. _It wouldn’t do to think things like that after she worked so hard to get him focused._

Mel made it to her room and quickly dismissed the bellboys with tips and sweet smiles. She allowed them to clump her kinda worn but definitely expensive luggage in the center of her room and breathed a sigh of relief once they were finally gone. 

Casting her purse into a nearby armchair, she plopped down on the edge of the bed closest to the window and gazed at London, letting her mind wander. She had what she wanted, she supposed. The job of a lifetime for a guy who was genuinely a good guy, if a bit promiscuous. His sex life aside, he was a gentleman. He’d listened when she said stop, he didn’t belittle her for being a woman and being bossy, and he’d honestly cared enough on the plane to ask about her ankle.

If it weren’t for his inability to keep it in his pants when it came to the help, and her actually being _the help_ , she’s sure she’d have had him about fifty different ways by now. He looked like a runner, all toned limbs and taut muscle. Runner’s have great stamina, or so she’s heard. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was her boss and she was his employee, it weren’t for that stupid contract, she’d be testing that stamina right now. On every flat surface and then some.

_God, I need a cold shower or something._ Once again, Mel had to physically shake herself out of the gutter her mind usually was and focus on something, _anything_ else. It’s just not professional to harbour thoughts about what you’d do your boss your first day on the job. _Unpacking_ Mel decided, _I should be unpacking._

It took her all of 15 minutes to unpack, so she decided to reward herself with a long hot soak in the inviting clawfoot tub. A cold shower was what she really needed, the way her thoughts had been, but she was all clenched up and tense. She couldn’t work well that way so a soak was her best bet.

As the tap ran, she poured a mixture of oils and suds into water, filling the quickly steaming room with calming floral fragrance. Roses and lavender perfumed the room quickly while steam fogged up the mirror. The lavender made her think of her mother and she cast a guilty glance towards her phone. It’s three o’clock going on four over here, her parents were no doubt just waking up. Calling now would be best, her parents would be home at the same time, probably at the kitchen table. 

When her mother went nuclear she could take it out on the plates while her dad told her how proud he was of her.

After a few more seconds of internal debate, Mel made a decision. Her phone was placed near the tub with an alarm set for when she needed to retrieve Tom, all her guilt was pushed aside to be dealt with when she needed to sleep tonight. She’d brought the iPod docking station into the bathroom, sitting doing nothing in a tub had never been enough for her. She need something to focus on. A book, a game, music, whatever. It was just too awkward to sit naked in a tub with hot water for half an hour and not _do_ something.

After turning off the tap and shucking off the complimentary terry cloth robe, Mel pressed play on her iPod. Soon the delicate notes of Erik Satie filled and echoed through the room. Placing one foot then the other into the almost too hot water, she slowly slid down until she was covered up to her chin. Her head rested on a rolled up towel and she closed her eyes with a heavy exhale.

At first, her mind didn’t want to relax, thoughts and images swirled through her head. Her mother, her job, her ambitions, and Tom. Dear, sweet, Tom. She let the thoughts run rampant and focused on none of them, hoping they would wear themselves out and quiet. She’d already made a decision on what she would to about her mother. Her job, despite the slight tension with Tom, was going quite well. 

But she quickly tried nixing any thoughts about Tom. Thinking about him with clothes _on_ left her hot under the collar. Naked and in one of her most vulnerable, relaxed states, would do nothing but leave her frustrated. While actively fighting to think about him at all, she found herself wondering about her dress for the gala coming up. She’s been to very few red carpets, most of her celeb bosses being has-beens or soon-to-be’s. Thoughts of what she might see or who she might meet lulled her into an accidental sleep.

The sounds of harps strumming woke her from a dreamless nap an hour and a half later. Apparently, her strategy worked this time. She stretched a little and slid down under the water and where she hid until her lungs protested. She worked her fingers through her curls. The steam had done something to them during her nap and even after her dunk into the now tepid water they still curled and puffed up defiantly. After a few more seconds of smoothing and tugging, Mel called it a day and exited the tub.

Melody dressed in comfortable clothes to meet with Tom. Today was a sort of free day, so she didn’t bother with putting on actual clothes. Jeans and and a cozy sweater was as dressed up as she planned to be after her relaxing bath. She hoped, belatedly, that Tom didn’t mind, but overall she didn’t care. He would see her looking a lot worse than she did right now, so he might as well get used to her dressed down.

Back in the bathroom, she removed the towel from her hair and applied her usual products before combing through her unruly curls. It was a long, arduous progress that left her arms aching and her the top of her head sore. A low ponytail was the easiest style option that looked decent and kept her thick hair out of her face. Hopefully if it dried this way it would cause her too much trouble later once she was ready for bed.

Hair taken care of, Mel studied her reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes, small nose (from her Mother thank God. She doesn’t think she could pull of her father’s beak), plump shapely lips, and prominent cheekbones the made her jaw look narrow. Her skin was marked here and there with the odd freckle or acne scar, but other than that her skin look dewy and perfect. She’s beautiful, she knows this without being vain or conceited in any way, but sometimes she has to take a moment to really look at herself.

Without all the affectations of beauty, she looked a great deal younger. Early twenties at best when she was easily pushing thirty. With no eye shadow or liner, no contouring to show off her bone structure, and no highly pigmented lip color to accentuate her full lips, she looked like a girl, innocent and naive. 

Sometimes she used it to her advantage, sometimes not. Today, she didn’t care, she was tired and if she had to admit to anyone, which she wouldn’t, also a teensy bit heart broken. It had been so easy for Tom to just turn it off. He’d gone from gentlemen, dashing and flirtatious to cold and distant at the drop of a hat. It wasn’t like her rejection had been harsh, just practical. Something between them would roll off him with good publicity or bad publicity for someone else. Her career would be _over_. She’d thought he’d understand that.

_No use being hurt, you have work to do._ Mel told her reflection. After briefly considering maybe putting on a bit of foundation, to at least even out her skin tone, she left the bathroom makeupless. She instead made her way to the living room with her phone, and tablets in hand. It was exactly two hours after she spoke with Tom and they had a lot to go over. 

Tom was still talking to his mother when she knocked on his door. His voice got louder as she approached; he sounded tense and embarrassed. _Henpecked_ , she supposed, _mother’s and wives do that the best._ It took her making her way to the seating area and perching herself on the armchair in front of him for him to notice her appearance. He looked at her like he’d never seen her before, taking her in from head to toe. He froze for a moment before the sound of his mother’s voice carried to Mels ears and she looked pointedly at his phone. 

He started a bit, coming back to himself and hastily saying, “Yes, I’m still here. Absolutely, mum.”

Mels watched Tom discreetly as he paced around the room seeming to barely get a word in on the conversation. She pretended to be focused on something on her tablet even as she arranged the one she’d brought for him, while tracking his every movement out the corner of her eye.

“Yes, mum. Listen, I have to go, I’m late for a meeting…yes. I will make sure to get time to come visit…I love you, too. Cheers.” He sighed heavily. “Sorry,” he grimaced, as he came over and sat on back down in his abandoned armchair.

“It’s not a problem. Mothers. We all have them.” Mel answered breezily. Her earlier hurt and pain were but a memory as she cheerily got ready to begin. Appearances matter. She may be hurt, but you’d never know it by the smile on her face and the light in her eyes.

“Yes we do.” Tom murmured distractedly. He’d been staring at her, again. As if he’d never seen a woman without makeup on before.

Melody pointed to the tablet on the table, “That’s yours. I took the liberty of updating it. If you give me your phone, I’ll do the same for that, too. Your updated schedule is in there and I can edit it as needed. If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know, so make sure you check your messages.”

“Great.” Tablet in hand now, Tom hadn’t even looked at it. His eyes traveled across her face and Mel had to fight herself from blushing under his scrutiny. It was unnerving and she felt a bit of whiplash by his behaviour. He’d gone from distant to interested in every spot, line, and wrinkle in her face so quickly. His intelligent eyes burning hot on her skin as he took her in.

“Tomorrow you have a photoshoot, and then a fitting for your tux for the charity dinner,” Mel began, determined to ignore him, “Transportation is taken care of, and the rest of your day is free. The following night is the dinner, it’s the only thing on the books so far. I sent you a list of guests and highlighted the ones you should make an effort to speak with and who to probably avoid.”

As she was explaining, he (finally) turned on his tablet and opened up the guest list. After a quick but hopefully thorough scan, Tom exclaimed happily, “Ben’s going,” then he visibly deflated. “and he’s bringing Sophie.”

“You don’t like her?” Mel was asking a pretty obvious question. She’d never met the woman herself, but she’d heard enough. She had no real opinion on her, but the general consensus from everyone is negative.

Tom winced and Mel could see him trying to rack his brain for something polite to say about a woman he obviously did not especially care for. “Let’s say, she’s…challenging.”

“Would you like me to run interference?” Mel asked.

His head popped up and looked at her with surprised eyes. “Can you do that?”

“I can.” She kinda had to. As his assistant she had to deal with all the people he was either too busy to or didn’t want to deal with. Besides, she didn’t know Sophie, maybe it was all hype.

“I know it’s terrible, but-“

Mel held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I have distracted and redirected more people than I can count.”

“Thank you.” Tom’s face softened and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

“You’re welcome. The day after the charity you have free. I figured we’d slowly ramp you back up. Before you begin your promotional tour.”

“Again, thank you.” Tom’s eyes were as soft as ever today. The blue looked warm, practically melted, as he gave her a genuine smile. His first all afternoon. She felt her heart stutter before she could stop it and she blushed at the realization. 

Her heart was literally fluttering for this fool. What is she doing? Did she not have a long talk earlier about keeping things professional? Heart flutters are _not_ professional!

“Do you have your dress for the dinner?” Tom asked, breaking her from her mental beration.

“I’ll be picking it up tomorrow." She said after a beat.

"Oh? How is it?" Tom sounded genuinely interested and Mel actually had to take another beat to pace herself before she gushed about the truly divine dress she was able to borrow from a designer contact of hers.

"It’s elegant, tasteful, and understated. I’ll blend into the background.” She finally said. It was a shortened version of what she actually wanted to say, but she didn’t want to bore Tom with dress details.

Surprisingly, Tom looked disappointed by her simple answer before offering her another warm smile.

“I can't imagine that. Speaking of appearances, though, if you don’t mind me saying, I like this look,” he smiled, gesturing to her her attire.

Mel blushed, and without the makeup, she was sure he could see it. “No makeup, jeans and a sweater I’ve had since I was eighteen?” Mel laughed in disbelief but Tom nodded enthusiastically, his grin widening at her response.

When their eye contact went from polite and friendly to heated and soul searching, Mel unnecessarily cleared her throat and looked back down at her tablet. 

“I promise to wear makeup for the big night. Wouldn’t want to scare anyone.” She says to her screen softly. Eye contact is dangerous, too much and she’ll fall back into her thoughts before her bath.

“Hardly. You’re beautiful with or without. But personally, I kind of like you without. On a professional level, of course.” Tom grinned. If her noticed her shift from open and slightly flirtatious he said nothing.

“Of course. Professionally speaking.” She couldn't help but smile, couldn’t help but flirt, couldn’t help but eye the delectable bit of collarbone peeking from his loose shirt collar.

Another tense silence that fell between them. Neither seemingly wanting to say anything, content to stare into one another's eyes for longer than was strictly _professional_. Once again, Mel had to catch herself.

“That’s all I have for now, is there anything you need to discuss?”

Tom shook his head, “No. Except if you could find a couple of days for me to go visit mum?”

“No problem,” she said standing. “Do you need dinner reservations?”

“No, I’m sorted,” he said standing as well. He towered over her when she was barefoot. Again they were stuck in this limbo of unbroken, prolonged eye contact. Again, Mel had to force herself to walk to her door.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning...” Not a question, but a way to stall. A way to give her a reason to stay in his presence a bit longer. To bathe in the blue of his eyes even as he scorched her skin from the intensity of his stare.

“Yes, in the morning,” he confirmed. 

She stood at the door, he stood by their chairs, yet the heat in the room began to boil over between them, threatening to combust. Their eyes met, breathing stilled and Mel could feel her heart quickening, beating, like it was looking for a way out of her chest. She was sure it wanted her to go join Tom, follow him into his room and soil that too perfect bed. But that couldn’t happen, and she fought to remind herself. 

She opened her door, and took a half step inside. The disappointment pulled her heart somewhere near her diaphragm, leaving unspoken words to clog her throat. The ache was heavy and unforgiving; it was a wonder she could remain standing. It was a wonder she could force herself to step further into her room, and begin to shut her door.

“Good night, Mr. Hiddleston,” she said, barely audible, as she finally began to close her door, unable to look away from Tom.


	6. Photoshoots and Layers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the three month delay to anyone who's still reading this. The fault is entirely on me (Karma) and not Lady Goodwin. Updates should be coming more regularly but who knows with us two.

Mel hid in her room for the rest of the night. Staring at the same luxurious, if boring, four walls was preferable to getting into another soulful staring match with Tom. It wasn’t like she didn’t get any work done during her self-enforced seclusion. She scheduled her wake up call for four am, to give her time for her morning walk, Tom’s five am wake up call, and breakfast to come at 5:30 am.

This would give them both enough time before the car came to take them to the 6:30 call time. With their busy morning and brief lunch between shots,  it should keep them from being alone together, which means Mel won’t have to deal with Tom’s hypnotizing gaze.

The morning was running as planned, when she returned at five thirty to find Tom sitting at the table, a tray filled with a full english breakfast next to him and the paper in his hands. He turned his torso towards her first, eyes still glued to whatever he’s reading, before he says, “I’m assuming you ordered this? I believe the coffee is still ho…”

He trails off as his jaw dropped, his eyes had finally landed on her and he looked downright flabbergasted. Mel literally would have laughed, if it weren’t so confusing to her. He’d seen her in her traveling clothes, seen her with her face free of makeup, but somehow seeing her in running pants and a sports bra was enough to render him speechless. _Men_.

She almost felt self conscious with how hard he’s staring at her, but then she remembered she had nothing to worry about. She didn’t have a runner’s body like him, but she isn’t out of shape by any means. Her curves were pronounced, but her stomach was flat and her arms and legs were shapely and strong. Mel worked hard for her body, it’s strong and looked nice in a swimsuit. Tom’s stare shouldn’t bother her.

Unfortunately it did bother her, so with a quick smile, she fled to her room for a quick shower and changed before breakfast.

She emerged in a simple pencil skirt and button up blouse in a nice shade of blue, that brought out the greener shades in her otherwise brown eyes. She’d painstakingly straightened her hair and applied a strategic amount of makeup that looked effortless and natural. Aside from the red lip, of course.

But that’s her trademark. As far as she’s concerned having fire engine red lips was as natural as Mel can ever be.

“I hope you saved me some.” Mel said, breezily as she carefully sat herself at the table and began to make herself a plate.

Tom had already finished his food, and had moved on to a simple cup of espresso. His eyes were flicking up and down her frame, taking in her transformation from slightly sweaty, with wild curls pulled into a ponytail, to this neat and polished version. She looked pretty similar to how she did when they first met, right down to her Louboutins. When he pointedly ended his once over, placing his newspaper down, Mel pretended to be engrossed in the garlic pattern on their potatoes.

“Well that was quite eye opening.” Tom finally said.

Mel delicately placed a forkful of eggs into her mouth and raised a single, finely arched eyebrow.

“I have now seen you entirely free of makeup, in certifiable pajamas, and now you're all made up for a day at work.”

Mel tried to shrug off his comments and buried herself in the logistics of the day; checking the weather, checking on traffic in case they needed to alter their route. Tom was undeterred and gently took her phone from her hands and placed it on the table in front of him.

“No phones at the dinner table.” He said with a sly smirk.

Not to be outdone, Mel raised an eyebrow and replied, “Noted. But this is breakfast.” She reached for her phone but Tom had already swept it away from her reaching fingers. His free hand grabbed at her retreating hand and brought it up to eye level for closer inspection.

“Let’s see red bottoms, red nails, and sinfully red lips…” He trailed off and pretended to be engrossed in thought as his fingers idly caressed the back of her hand. All thoughts Mel had of snatching her hand back were lost when she realized how much she _liked_ his hand running over her own.

His hand wasn’t calloused or overly soft, but somewhere between the two. It was almost comically larger than her own, a lot more slender than her hand had ever been probably. She liked the way her skin looked against his, her golden tan standing out against his pale skin. He’d probably never believed her when she told him she’d spent the first five years of her life here in the UK before moving to New York (and then later, L.A.)

“I bet your favorite color is red, hmm?” His smile was too flirtatious for the early hour and Mel found herself more tongue tied than usual. Usually she could keep up with him and all his flirtatiousness, but currently she was still running slightly behind.

“My favorite color’s blue,” she finally said softly looking deep into Tom’s azure orbs. She saw the heat leave his gaze slowly, the blaze within tamed and turned warm. Blue had always been her favorite color, royal blue specifically. Tom’s eyes were just too light, but that just made her like them even more. The lighter color fit him better, in her opinion. It matched his laughter, his voice, his disposition.

It wasn’t until her phone beeped to alert them of their driver’s arrival, did Mel realize she’s locked in another long staring match with Tom. With heated cheeks and downcast eyes, Mel retrieved the phone from Tom’s grasp and walked to her room to get her purse, coat and umbrella.

They walked to the car in a companionable silence that carried with them on the drive over to the photo shoot. There’s a good distance between them in the car, and Tom kept his wandering eye away from her legs, and on the tablet she’d provided him the night before. Mel pretended not to notice his good behavior and tried to focus on the email she was writing her parents.

Well, more specifically, her mother. Her dad was absolutely helpless when it comes to the internet, and most electronics. For his fiftieth birthday she bought them an electric kettle and subsequently watched it accumulate dust on top of the fridge.

Her email consisted of the usual pleasantries and a few deflections for why she hasn’t answered any of her mother's calls before she bites the bullet and just says it. _Mum, I’ve taken a job that we keep me on a plane for the better part of the year, give my best to Daddy Dearest would you._ She decided to end the email at that, and prepare for the coming barrage of insults and motherly concern.

Her mother meant well, but sometimes she can be more venomous than a snake when she puts her mind to it. Mel can’t really complain, she gave as much as she got, but it’s especially tiring when it comes to her job. Her father was a bit better about the whole thing, he was just happy Mel had a job she enjoyed.

“You okay?” Tom’s voice broke Mel out of her thoughts abruptly, and she had to take moment to look around and get her bearings before she could answer.

“Just thinking of my parents.” She replied, honestly.

“Everything alright?” His brow furrows in concern, and he eyed the phone clenched in her hands warily.

Mel felt a moment of confusion before she realized that Tom knew nothing about her home life. He knew nothing of her relationship with her parents, and as such didn’t know how to proceed when she glared at her phone because of said parents.

Deciding to cut him some slack, Mel honestly explained the expression on her face. “I hadn’t told my parents I’d accepted this job. And I also hadn’t given them much notice about how much I’ll be travelling with you. They’ll be worried and my mom will try to pick a fight.”

Tom chewed his lip and took his a breath before carefully asking, “Are you not….close with your parents?”

Mel smiled and shook her head emphatically, “My parents and I are are the best of friends, honestly. Thick as thieves. It’s just my mom and I are more alike than we’d like to admit and we sometimes butt heads. My dad ends up being the mediator.”

Confused and amused, Tom asked, “So why would they be adverse to you working with me?”

Mel had to fight off a laugh when her mother’s opinion of Tom came to her mind. She’d seen him in passing on the cover of a magazine while shopping. She’d picked up the flimsy booklet and slapped a hand against the cover, _‘Never trust a skinny man in a suit, Melody.’_ “Mum has a bit of an aversion to you, and I’m sure my dad would warm to you nicely before he realized you were trying to get into his daughters’ knickers.”

Tom gave Mel a toothy smile and opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by the car stopping in front of a nondescript brick building. He gave her a heated look dripping equally in arousal and humor, before unfolding himself from the backseat and entering the building.

After checking in and losing Tom to wardrobe, Mel was off in a corner with the other idle assistants. She had nothing to do really. After secluding herself in her room to avoid Tom and depthless blue eyes, she’d occupied herself with setting up his schedule and triple checking everything. This was honestly the slowest month in his schedule, so she had nothing to occupy her mind.

And her mind ran wild when she saw what they’d dressed Tom in for the first part of the shoot. Tom had been born to wear a suit, Mel was breathless watching him make his way to his mark. She couldn’t hear what the photographer was saying to Tom, when he stretched and made the buttons strain to contain his toned chest. They’d added something to his hair to make the curls more pronounced and Mel lost herself in the swirls.

As the shoot progressed Mel found herself guzzling water and pressing her legs together to quell her excitement. The shoot had started off in this bare room with paint stained wood floors and rugged brick walls before moving toward a dark and broodingly modern bathroom. Tom was careful dowsed head to toe in water, making his button up transparent and his nipples visible in his shirt. His slacks seemed to mold to his body, even more so than usual and that fact alone had Mel making her way out of the shoot.

She couldn’t take it, she just didn’t have the self control needed to keep herself from mauling the man in front of a whole host of photographers, makeup attendants, other assistants, and God. She’d go to hell just for her thoughts alone, she wasn’t ready to add exhibitionist to her rap sheet.

Well, at least not yet.

She shot Tom an apologetic text, careful not to hint as to why she suddenly felt the need to go get fitted for a dress she’d been fitted for before they had even left L.A., and texted the driver assigned to them from the car service, to pick her up.

By the time the hired car had come to pick her up Tom still hadn’t texted her back, not that she’d honestly been expecting him to. She’d come to realize pretty quickly that Tom hated being on his phone when in a room full of people. He thought it rude and tried his damndest not to make a habit of it if he could, no matter what he was doing or who was on the line.

After giving the address of her designer friend to the driver Mel sat back and contemplated what she’d do about the message left on her phone by her parents. Three from her mom, one from her dad (as expected). She couldn’t risk checking them now, not when the day wasn’t even half over and she still had so much to be done. The message would wreck her mood for the day and no amount of dressing up and looking pretty at her fitting would lighten it.

So she’d wait, at least until she was at the hotel and locked in her room, away from soul searching eyes and sinfully witty banter. Then, at least, Tom won’t see yet another layer to her she’s not sure she’s ready for him to see.                                                

****  
  



End file.
